


The Little Stuffed Petrorabbit

by LittleMissSweetgrass



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Fairy Tale Elements, Fairy Tale Retellings, M/M, major character death but its ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-04-21 12:11:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14284653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleMissSweetgrass/pseuds/LittleMissSweetgrass
Summary: Baiscally the story of the Velveteen Rabbit.Even though Magnus is a stuffed toy, he knows how important his job is in keeping his youngling happy, no matter what.





	The Little Stuffed Petrorabbit

**Author's Note:**

> As always this isnt edited.  
> I wrote most of this months ago when I was sick, and honestly never finished it until now, so here you go!

For as long as it could remember, there was only the toy shop. It’s first memory, was looking up into the single yellow optic of the toymaker. How carefully the toymaker would pinch the steel-wool between his claws and stuff it up, making its body all plump and soft. Then it would watch in fascination as his maker carefully sewn and then welded up the copper-silk that made up its body. Not to mention the concentration and focus that was in the toymaker’s single optic as he carefully painted it's body in swaths of blue and red with large, clean, white ears. 

When he was finished the toymaker crowed, “Hey now! I think this little guy might be one of my best works yet! Come here little petrorabbit, off to the display case for you!” Is that what it was? A petrorabbit? Well it supposed it was better than being nothing. 

So off it went, carried lightly in the claws of the toymaker to the shop front, and placed in front of a large glass window. The little petrorabbit was surprised, there were so many mechs walking around outside of the glass, some glancing at him but others just walking on past. All around the little petrorabbit were more toys, all of these ones with gleaming armour plates and large keys sticking out of their backs. Some were even moving around! It gave a mighty effort, but the little petrorabbit couldn’t move. It just watched with envy as the other toys marched in circles or flew around on strings above it.

When night fell, and the toymaker closed up his shop and a cover went over the window, the toys that moved all talked amongst themselves. One of the little white and blue mech shaped figures hopped up onto his shelf, followed by a purple flying toy that still had a string attached to it's back.

“Hello!” the small mech said, “My name is Tailgate and this is Cyclonus. We’re the toys that have been in the shop the longest so Whirl gave us names!” The little toy seemed proud about this fact while the taller toy just gazed fondly at his companion. Was it also a toy? A toy petrorabbit? Oh, he wished his maker would have given him more information about himself when he was made! It didn’t like to learn things on the fly like this! “Come on! Wind up your key and I can show you around to the other toys!” What key? Did it also have one of these? The petrorabbit tried to wiggle around and move like before, but still was stuck.

When the toy petrorabbit didn’t move, Cyclonus moved around it, trying to find it’s hidden key. “Odd, Whirl didn’t make you with one.” He murmured. “I doubt you will be able to move around like us then, my apologies.” It was then, with a small gasp, Tailgate gave it a comforting pat on its foot.

“Oh that’s so sad! Don’t worry, we’ll come talk to you every night until you get bought!” The little toy’s visor lit up with happiness at his words, “We’ll make sure you know everything you need too for when you get a youngling to play with!” 

And for orns that’s where the petrorabbit sat, on its' shelf in the window display, watching the mechs outside during the day, and at night listening and learning from the wind-up toys all about being a toy. How wonderful it felt to be given a name, and how important it was to play with and care for your youngling. How to comfort them when they were sad, and the rules of the many games you might play together. But most importantly, on how to share the attention of the youngling with other toys. Everything the other toys told it were all very important and interesting to the petrorabbit, and it made sure to not forget a single rule. When it would finally get it’s youngling to care for, it will be the best toy that youngling could ask for!

And it seemed like that time was sooner than it realized. After a week, two large mechs walked into the shop. One was blue and red like itself, the other was a steely grey. Both were very large, even bigger than the toymaker! When the toymaker came into the shop at the sound of the door chime, he also must have been shocked at the size of these two mechs as his single optic grew wide and his claws snapped together in shock.

“My Prime, and Lord Protector! What are you doing in here?” Cyclonus, who flew on the string above the countertop during the day, angled himself closer to Whirl’s head, distracting the toymaker from his shock for a moment. “Sorry, I meant to say what can I help you with.” One of Whirl’s claws reached up and plucked Cyclonus from his string, popped out his key, and placed both on the countertop beside Tailgate, who was also in his vehicle mode. 

The red and blue mech, Prime, the little petrorabbit supposed, gave a little chuckle and rubbed his chest. “We are expecting a bitlet soon, as I'm sure you are aware, and was told this was the best toyshop in Iacon.”

The grey mech cut his mate off, “Do you sell anything that is safe for newsparks?” He eyed the purple toy jet with judging red optics.

The toymaker puffed up his chest, “Of course I do! My specialty is youngling aged toys that transform and move on their own with clockwork! But I also make toys that are softer and easier to play with for newsparks.” Whirl walked over to the display and gently grabbed the petrorabbit and showed him off too the two customers. “This little guy here is brand new and made with copper-silk, incredibly soft to the touch and stitched together with steel thread and welded over in bronze. Very smooth and all its insides are stuffed with the finest servospun steel-wool. No little digits will be getting caught on any sharp parts and its very durable! This little plush will take the roughest playtime from any newspark or youngling- even one with a former gladiator programming in their CNA!” Whirl gave a snicker as the grey mech hummed appreciatively. 

The toymaker handed over the toy petrorabbit to the red and blue mech, who held him lightly in his servos. “You see, he's completely lifelike! I have a friend who has pet petrorabbits so I was able to use them as live models to base this guy on. The ears can swivel around like a real one,” and here the petrorabbit would have jumped if it could as it’s ear was pinched between Whirl’s claws and twisted around, “And the whiskers are made from silver thread, again a very soft metal, but coated in a sealant so they won’t tarnish over time. He’s also completely hand painted and one of a kind, you won’t find another one anywhere else!” The toymaker boasted. 

The toy petrorabbit was a little surprised to hear all these things about itself, it had no idea that it was so well made! It’s little coloured glass optics looked up at the big mech holding it. He would nod at the things Whirl was saying, as to show that he was listening, but he was looking down at the little toy and smiling softly. There seemed to be a gleam in this little toy’s optic that made the matrix inside his chest, or maybe it was his newspark, project interest into his own spark. 

The Prime gave a pleased smile and looked down at the toymaker, “It seems like every praise for your work was true! We will take this plush toy, and perhaps a few more if you have any.”

A couple of groons later the little toy petrorabbit was carefully boxed up with a black toy cybercat, and four windup toy soldiers -a car, a truck, a jet, and a tank- all painted up to look like the Primal Vanguard. 

Just before the toy petrorabbit was place in the box to go to its new home, as the three mechs were talking about cost for the purchases, it saw Tailgate and Cyclonus waving goodbye.

——————

It had been several deca-orns after the newspark separated from the Prime’s own spark and was place in their own beautifully crafted armour. The toy petrorabbit was placed in the newsparks crib and spent many nights watching over the tiny red and yellow mechling, and when the language packets started to be fully integrated within the newsparks programing, it was finally given a name- Magnus! 

Magnus couldn’t help but feel proud at the little newspark. He created a whole new name for him! Unlike the stuffed black cybercat which was named Ravage, after the cassette who belonged to a friend of the newspark’s sire. In fact, in the deca-orns that Magnus stayed with his new mechling, he had learned a lot about the house and the world surrounding his little charge. The newspark, Hot Rod, was the spark-born child of Optimus Prime and Lord Protector Megatron, the rulers of a united Cybertron. Their little bitlet, was the physical proof of this unification and would have a very important role in the future of this world. Which means that Magnus had a very important role in making sure the mechling grew up happy, healthy, and ready to bear these burdens. Or at least that’s what it seemed like to the little toy petrorabbit.

Everyday until the newspark was upgraded into his first youngling armour, Magnus sat in his crib watching over Hot Rod while he slept. Chasing away bad dreams, and allowed to be hugged close. He'd have his ears chewed on while the newspark was carried to and fro all over the house and the city. Magnus felt important because whenever the royal family had to leave the house, for whatever reason, Magnus was on the checklist of things needed to make the trip go smoothly. 

When Hot Rod got his first youngling upgrades, things changed. Suddenly the room across from the nursery turned into a playroom, filled to the brim with toys and gifts that were given from friends and guests during the celebrations. Magnus was moved to this new room, to keep the nursery tidy. He missed sitting in the crib, or on the nursery windowsill to watch the comings and goings of his little domain, but if it was to keep things organized and tidy, then Magnus would allow it.

In this playroom, there were many new toys to talk to, not just the stuffy toy cybercat Ravage. Magnus’ newest friend was a metal rocking zap-horse named Ratchet. Ratchet was a gift from Elita-One, a childhood friend of Optimus and the sire of Arcee, an older youngling friend of Hot Rod. The old rocking zap-horse was apparently a toy from Elita and Optimus’ own youth. Something owned by a mech they both viewed and cared for like a carrier of their own, even though both mechs were forged instead of sparkborn. This made Ratchet very old. His plating was very weak and dented. His mane and tail, which were once thick and covered with silver threads much like Magnus’ own whiskers, where now scraggly and threadbare, lost to the sands of time and poor upkeep. Ratchet’s joints were also very weak, and his front hooves had apparently fallen off and lost until Elita-One had them replaced, but they weren’t a complete match with his back hooves. Magnus, however, would think it rude to point this out to the zap-horse so he doesn’t. 

Another toy that Magnus spent an annoying amount of time around was a windup toy designed after a priest warrior named Drift. Drift was a gift to Hot Rod by one of Dai Atlas’ high priests for his first youngling upgrade. The high priest had told Hot Rod that Drift was a discarded broken toy soldier some child had left forgotten at their church. But, it was fixed and restored into the brilliantly white and red toy before him. This toy gift was to show the youngling that even if a mech came from humble beginnings, that didn't mean they did not hold great wealth inside of them. Hot Rod was enchanted by the tale, and after Magnus himself, Drift became one of the youngling’s favourite toys.

This was unfortunate for Magnus, as he didn’t really enjoy spending that much time with the white windup. He was annoyed with all his religious chatter of auras and the will of Primus. As if toys had any rights to be talking about such things! We were made for the enjoyment of younglings, and it was an honourable duty! Thankfully Ratchet also agreed with Magnus, although the rocking zap-horse was insistent that Drift was full of slag and had no idea what he was talking about. This led to many debates and arguments that Magnus really did not want to be an audience to, and was often saved from by Hot Rod carrying him away for play or comfort. 

Magnus, Ratchet, and Drift would spend their days either watching over the youngling as he played in the playroom, or being a part of his made up adventures, much to Ratchet’s chagrin. He claimed he was much too old to be handled so roughly. Magnus agreed, but would also tell the rocking zap-horse that as toys it was their duty to play with their youngling. Drift never had any complaints about the rough handling and would often tease Ratchet, even though Magnus had witnessed Hot Rod pulling hard on the windup’s transformation pieces or gripped him so tight that his joints would creak. Magnus admired this, as it showed that Drift too realized how important a toy was to a youngling and cared very much for their charge, even if it meant being hurt by them. At night, if Magnus wasn’t snuck into Hot Rod’s berth to cuddle with, he would sit with Ratchet as the older toy told him and the others stories. 

Tonight was a tale of what happened to broken toys. A little macabre, and nothing that Magnus was interested in hearing. After the tale he would be scolding Ratchet for lowering the moral of the other toys with his horror stories. The rocking zap-horse spun a tale of broken arms, lost windup keys, crushed cogs, and the smelter out back that would be the final resting place for toys like them. Magnus gave a huff. This was just not true! Cyclonus and Tailgate had told him of toys that have been broken and brought back to the toyshop to be fixed by Whirl. Younglings loved their toys and they wouldn’t just be tossed to the smelter! Ratchet was just being a fear mongering old scrap. Which Magnus loudly stated to the said old scrap, making Ratchet huff at the loss of his fun and calming the rest of the toys.

“You should believe me Magnus, I’ve seen toys get tossed away and thrown into the smelter without any more of an optic blink. Sure, we toys mean something to the younglings, but the mechs? Bah! They will lock us away forgotten or tossed aside for spare parts.” Ratchet grumbled, rolling his cloudy blue glass optics. “I may have lasted longer than the average toy, but I will meet the same end soon enough. We are toys, then we are broken, and are no more.”

Magnus frowned, now even if that was true, we toys should be happy we lived a life to our charges at all! Why there were toys at Whirl’s toyshop that were never sold! Never got to play with youngling as we were designed for! However, before Magnus could bring this point up, Drift, who had been pensively silent the entire time, spoke up. 

“I believe you are wrong, Ratchet.” Drift’s voice was soft, but firm. “I too have lived a long life, and I too have been forgotten and left to gather dust in the corner of a church floor. But I do not think that being broken and fading is a bad thing!” Here, the other toys gathered around and looked up in interest at the white wind up. “A toy that is broken is a toy that was loved! And being loved is special, and keeps us alive! The more we are loved the more we break, but that love is what will make us real one day. Primus--” 

He was cut off by a snort from Ratchet, “Oh here we go…”

“Primus,” Drift continued, “will take that love stored into our bodies and make us real sparks with it! So even when we are finally broken beyond repair, we will live on as real mechs and mechanimals because Primus will see that love in us. And love is a very special magic, as it shows that we did good jobs as toys, and it is our reward to be our own mechs some day.” Drift had raised one servo to his chest, where a spark would be if toys’ had them, and with his other servo he lifted his Great Sword into the air. Many of the toys were swayed by his declaration and looked up at the windup with awe in their glass optics. 

Magnus looked over at Ratchet and both shared a moment of exasperation over Drift’s zealous behaviour. But enough was enough. It was getting early and the maids would be coming in to clean the playroom soon. Hot Rod would soon be awake to play before his morning energon, so all the toys better head off to their proper places! There was some grumbling but all the toys knew not to argue with Magnus and were all heading back to their proper storage spaces.

Ratchet gave a final huff and gave his threadbare mane a little shake, “Toys with sparks, I wonder what he’ll come up with next.”

_____________

Hot Rod was well into his second set of youngling upgrades when he got sick. It was a bad sickness, Ratchet had told Magnus in a hushed whisper, something that was very deadly to younglings and newsparks. Both he and Drift had seen it before, and Drift’s plating shuddered as he told the other two about how it had killed many of his first charge’s friends when an outbreak happened in Dead End vorns ago. Magnus frowned, hoping with all his might that this case of cosmic rust wasn’t as bad as the others were making it out to be.

Over the vorns the little stuffed petrorabbit had grown even more attached to Hot Rod. Even though the youngling was foolish, and loud, and liked to strap Magnus in his front seats and speed down the hallways in his altmode, scaring the waitstaff and Magnus when he did so-- the little youngling had a good spark. He was always careful with his toys, and always shared or gifted them to visiting younglings or his friends, showing his compassion. Even though he was in his second frame, Hot Rod always slept with Magnus in his berth, and Drift would sometimes sit on the end table and “guard over both of them from sparkeaters.” Drift would always try his best not to laugh at Magnus if he was knocked off the berth at night or was squished under the berth covering. But Magnus would always hear the teasing in his tone when he asked if he was alright.

The little stuffed petrorabbit had spent so much time with Hot Rod over the vorns that his wear was finally showing. His white ears, which once stood up tall and proud, had paint chewed off and would flop over his face because of the loose ball joint. His silver thread whiskers had been burned off when Hot Rod discovered his Outliner ability-- summoning flames when he experienced intense emotions-- which had shocked everyone. His copper-silk plating was tarnished and stretched out thin in places and his paint was practically completely worn out, only showing little patches of the once vibrant blue and white colours. His steel-wool stuffing was now lumpy and would make him lean over on his side, which was the biggest affront of aging Magnus had to go through, because now he couldn’t stand up proudly when addressing the other toys or meeting visitors. Ratchet would always shake his head when ever Magnus mentioned his ailments, just chalking it up to being well worn and the plight all toys go through. Drift was always supportive though, saying that it was for the best because it showed how much Hot Rod cared for the stuffed petrorabbit. 

But all of the blights suffered by Magnus from Hot Rod’s youthful exuberance, he would never, ever, wish that his little charge would get sick. So this is why he was so happy when the maid had brought Magnus from the playroom and into the nursery to be placed into Hot Rod's waiting servos. The poor youngling was visiting Kalos for the orn, on a small trip with his sire and carrier when he first started coughing. He was rushed back to Iacon and to the waiting doctors once they had found out there was a cosmic rust infection that was plaguing the lower class bots within the city. And of course that Hot Rod had played with a few of the native younglings as his creators visited the gladiatorial pits Megatron had once been a part of. But by the time they were back in Iacon, the youngling was already having trouble breathing. 

Once Magnus was placed into his charge’s over-heated servos he tried his hardest to be as soft as he could to try and bring Hot Rod some comfort. During the night the medics had quarantined the nursery, and one had even tried to keep the Prime and the Lord Protector from seeing their youngling. It had ended in a fierce yelling match from Megatron, and the Lord Protector bursting into the room anyway, growling at anyone that tried to remove him from his creation’s side. Magnus didn’t approve of all this drama and excitement, it wouldn't be good for Hot Rod’s weak spark right now, and if he could have, he would have scolded Megatron for his display.

His glossa would have been stayed, when the Prime strode in after his mate, elegantly as ever and placed a lightly shaking servo on Megatron’s shoulder. The Prime’s face was scrunched up in worry and pain, mirroring the look the Lord Protector had worn since he came into the room.

“What are we going to do Megatron? He’s so young, what if the cure doesn’t take?” The Prime gave a hushed whisper, optics ignoring all else in the room that was not his creation or his bonded. His still shaking servos were wrapped in larger grey ones and held like a lifeline.

Megatron was pensive for a moment, brilliant red optics staring at his creation, attempting to will the illness away with their intensity. “He will make it Optimus. Hot Rod has never let anything stop him yet, the cure will work and he will bounce right back, mark my words. If he should perish, Primus is to answer to me and will need to beg for my forgiveness.” The words were growled and Magnus snuggled in closer to Hot Rod in agreement.

So that is how the orns past. In the morning the medics would inject medicine into the youngling’s protoform. The Lord Protector and the Prime would stay from mid-orn to the dark cycle, just reading or talking to Hot Rod if he was awake and murmuring quietly to themselves if he was not, which happened much more. Then they would retire for the dark cycle and Magnus was left in charge of the youngling, sticking close to him and protecting him from any fever dreams that he was plagued with. Then it would repeat. 

It worried Magnus about how still Hot Rod was, he was so used to his fidgeting and squirming. So seeing him lying still for whole cycles was alarming. By the sixth cycle of this, Magnus couldn’t stand it any more, he hoped with all his little being that Hot Rod would get better. Magnus would give anything for his charge to be healthy again!

By the next morning his little prayer had been answered, the medicine had finally taken hold and gave Hot Rod’s antivirus the boost it needed to beat the cosmic rust infection! The whole palace was overjoyed, the air itself seemed lighter once the colour was returning to Hot Rod’s plating and the rust patches flaked off. Magnus couldn’t wait to tell Ratchet and Drift the good news, although he was sure both knew already. 

The head medic was back to check Hot Rod’s vitals once more and gave the all clear. Both the Prime’s and the Lord Protector’s faces were beaming with relief as each held onto some part of their creation. With a sure nod of his head the medic deemed the quarantine over. “However, everything in this room during the quarantine has been contaminated with the cosmic rust infection, and everything must be smelted down in case it comes back.” 

Magnus’ non-existent spark dropped to his pedes. What did the medic say?

Megatron gave a frown, “Everything? It seems like such a waste of resourses to smelt everything down.”

The medic shook his head, “Normally I wouldn’t even think about suggesting this, but with how contagious rust is, and with how fast the comic rust infection is known to mutate, I wouldn’t trust it. Everything in this room must be smelted down and the walls and floors must be scrubbed with an anti-rust sealant. If the rust is still lingering, the sealant will smoother it, and if not, protect it from coming back. Everything else can be replaced.”

“No! I don’t want to smelt down Magnus!” Hot Rod had clutched the stuffed petrorabbit to his chest fearfully, optics welling with coolant. “I don’t care about anything else but Magnus can’t be smelted down! He’s not sick I promise! Please don’t do it carrier, sire!” The coolant tears were running down his small face and dripping onto Magnus’ helm.

The little petrorabbit couldn’t stand hearing Hot Rod cry. The poor youngling had been through enough! To be truthful he was afraid of being smelted down, but if he did carry the lingering rust then he also didn’t want to make his little charge so sick again. 

The Prime’s blue optics were filled with sorrow over his creation’s blight, but he knew there was truth in the medic’s words. “I’m sorry Hot Rod, we just cannot risk having you be sick again.” And with that Magnus’ fate was sealed. The Prime’s word was law and with a nod to the head medic he led his team, accompanied by the waitstaff, into the nursery to collect all of Hot Rod’s things. 

Hot Rod wailed and Megatron pulled the youngling into his arms. “I’m sorry, my little spark, we will get you all new things. You can even pick out a new toy from Whirl’s shop.” With that Magnus felt himself be pulled from the youngling’s grasp and added into a bag and then there was nothing else but darkness.

He sat in that bag for half a cycle it seemed, being jostled around and squished between the other objects in the bag. His little toy being sagged with sadness. It would seem like he was going to meet that same grizzly fate Ratchet was so fond of talking about. Tossed aside without a care and to be smelted down.

Well, at least he did his job as a toy well! He was sure Cyclonus and Tailgate in the toy shop would be proud of him, of the joy he gave Hot Rod and the happiness the youngling showed whenever they were playing together. He lived a good life as a toy and he was proud of it, not wanting to change a single thing.

Actually that’s a lie, he wished he would have been around to see Hot Rod get upgraded into his adult frame. But he was truly happy the amount of life he did share with Hot Rod.

Suddenly the bag gave a large jostle, and it was suddenly very, very hot. Magnus shut his little glass optics and hoped with his last thought that Hot Rod would continue to be happy without him. 

________

 

Minimus honestly hated going to the shopping markets. The crowds were too big and he always ended up getting separated from Dominus and shoved to the ground and-- OH! Someone stepped on his pede, how rude! He was small not invisible! 

Rewind and Dominus were both ahead of Minimus, farther away now cause he was hobbling, but at least he could still see the other minibots. Honestly, why they both wanted him to come in the first place was ridiculous! As if he was any help to them picking out some fancy new polish! Minimus had used the same polish since he was forged and didn’t have a wide range of experience to offer any type of opinion on any other brand. Why they insisted on him leaving the house and coming with them anyways was beyond him. Really, they were just going to spend forever humming and hawing over two identical polishes, then spend the rest of the time sending each other loving looks while Minimus tired not to exist. 

Minimus loved his brother and his brother's conjunx he really did, but if this shopping trip turns into another date that Minimus was forced to third wheel because they forgot they had actually brought him again, the minibot was going to--!

Minimus was slammed to the ground from behind and felt something ding his helm. Oh ow, that knock definitely made his processor rattle. He lay there for a moment to gather his bearings, listening to the bot that crashed into him moaning over his own injuries. 

He clicked on his optics and was startled as he saw a little windup toy laying directly in front of his face. Well, that must have been what hit his helm. It was a well done toy, looked a little old because the white and red painting on it was flaking in places, and one of the arms had broken off-- oh! Minimus hopped it hadn't broken when it’s owner crashed into him. The toy was actually pretty familiar, he wondered if he had seen it in a shop window or something recently. He doubted it, because the toy looked like it was modeled after a priest knight, an odd toy theme to sell to younglings. Minimus squinted, did the toy just wink an optic at him or was it’s optic lights broken too.

“Oh, mech, I’m so sorry about that I really wasn’t looking where I was going and didn’t see you down there! Here let me help you up!” A voice spoke directly behind him, and suddenly Minimus found himself being lifted up! The nerve! 

Minimus whirled around about to snap at the careless mech for manhandling him, when the other suddenly ducked down and scooped up the little toy. “Oh, Drift! Slag it, his arm broke off, Whirl is going to give me Unicron’s own wrath for making him fix more than a worn transformation panel.” The mech, a normal sized bot with a brilliant a red, yellow, and orange paint job and a drooping yellow spoiler stood before him, looking distraught at the broken toy arm in his servo. 

He knew this mech! This was the creation of the Prime and the Lord Protector! This was Hot Rod! Minimus felt his joints lock in shock, leaving him feeling stiff, his scolding dying on his glossa in a staticy fritz. 

Hot Rod looked back up at Minimus with a smile. “Again, I’m really sorry for knocking you over! But I really have to go, I’m already late for an appointment and if I keep Whirl waiting any longer he might actually hunt me down.” His smile turned sheepish, as he gave a little wave and then disappeared into the crowds as fast as he came. Minimus just stood there shocked.

“Mins! There you are, we thought you had gotten lost again.” Dominus’ voice teasingly found his audial and Minimus jumped. He whirled around to see his brother and his brother-in-law standing a little ways ahead, Rewind’s recording light on, and both had a mischievous air to them. 

Minimus hurried up to them and Rewind wrapped a servo around his arm. “Who was that mech that you were talking to, Minimus? Someone you knew?” And with that both his brother and friend dragged him off into the crowd again.


End file.
